Post by Krissy on Feb 2, 2017 19:04:21 GMT -5

CHAPTER ONE:On the third anniversary of my father’s disappearance, I hid in my car a block from my house, imagining what it would be like to vanish. To leave everything behind: clothes, money, pictures, friends, and family. To start over without the weight of my identity and my past dragging behind me. All I had to do was turn the key and drive. Then, I could be free from it all. But three years ago I promised I’d never make my family relive that night when I was fourteen. The ice cold mashed potatoes, the melted candle wax dripping onto the ivory tablecloth, Amber picking at the loose strand of her favorite blue dress—the same dress she’d torch later that week in the backyard. With one choice, my father unraveled himself from the fabric of our family without a goodbye, and we weren’t able to stitch ourselves back together. The car hummed as it idled underneath me, urging me back home. Only two minutes down the road, yet I could have been an hour away, the facts remained the same—I was late. From the driver’s seat, I had a side view of my living room window. Every few minutes, the curtain pulled back, and I’d catch a quick glimpse of my mother’s arm. Without even seeing her, I knew my mother had a phone clutched to her shoulder, waging an internal debate on whether or not to call the police. Our county department’s number memorized after months of calls. I cast a glance to my own phone, dead and useless on the passenger’s seat.In just one year, I’d be graduated from high school. When all of my friends moved away, I’d still be here, at home, fulfilling a promise that shackled me down. For the first time in three years, I didn’t check in. And it felt good. Without a second thought, I turned the key further in the ignition, and shifted into drive. Pressing down on the gas pedal, I sped past my house. I had no destination, only away. The more distance I put between me and home, the lighter I felt. I rolled down the window, letting the cool September breeze blow through my hair, sending dirty blonde strands over my face. My laughter filled the car, and I stuck a hand out the open window as everything seemed suddenly in my reach. An eagerness pooled in my chest, and an internal pull tugged outwards, driving me toward something—something different, something farther. I reached toward it. And then the world went black. I couldn’t feel my body, couldn’t open my eyes, and couldn’t hear a single sound. I felt paralyzed, my limbs frozen in the darkness only filled with my terror and the cloying powdery smell of lilac. Had I crashed? Was I dead? I panicked, jerking away from the thoughts and trying to regain control over my body, my senses. It worked.

The world returned as my car drove headfirst over the curb. I slammed on the brakes, my body no longer paralyzed, and turned the wheel so the car fell back on the road. I shook as the car came to a stop. My breath came in shallow gulps. The smell of lilacs still clung to my throat as if I swallowed it with each inhale. The lilacs and fear choked me. Only the cool air provided any comfort. For a moment, it had been as if I were stuck in a moment of sleep paralysis I’d been experiencing over the last four months. A moment of dark, paralyzed panic. Only I was awake. The lilac smell lessened as the autumn smell of old leaves and the burnt rubber of my tires drifted back until the lilacs disappeared entirely. I sat in my car for fifteen minutes, counting the numbers of leaves on the street and running my hands over my arms to dispel the feeling of paralysis as I had done every morning. I experienced the same dream, over and over. Every night. Remembering the dream sometimes felt like sifting through a fog with no start, no end, just infinite haze. I laid paralyzed moments after waking, trying to convince myself that no one was after me.

That I was safe. Sitting in my car, I reached eighty-seven leaves when the row I had been counting blew away, clearing an open circle in the middle of the street. The breeze that once whipped my hair disappeared though. No other leaves rustled along the ground, no tree branches swayed against the wind. Only the perfect circle in front of me showed any sign of disturbance. The leaves rattled again. This time, a gray mist swirled in the open circle, twisting and turning, taking shape. The fog gray deepened into shadow black. My heart pounded, watching the smoky mist grow tall like a person with two silver orbs for eyes. “Ellie?”I jumped, nearly screaming. Officer Dan’s head peeked in the open car window. Glancing back toward the shadow, it had vanished. No signs that it ever existed remained. The leaves once again covered every inch of the ground. “Ellie,” Officer Dan continued. “Is everything all right? Your mom called. She was worried when you didn’t come home.”I nodded absently, still staring at the empty street. “I’m okay. Everything’s fine.”

CHAPTER TWO:

As I parked in the driveway, Mom darted out from the open doorway, her phone clutched in her hand. She sighed with relief and hugged me to her chest with a surprising strength for someone so slender. Her hands shook on my back even with me tucked safely in her arms. For a few more seconds, she stroked my hair and took deep breaths.

Then she pulled away, and my stern mother returned. “Eleanor, I’m beginning to wonder if this is becoming a household trait. Honestly, we’ve put up with this for years with your sister. But, you I expected more from.” She paused. “Ellie, you know how important it is to call if you’re going to be late, especially today...” Mom’s voice shook. “Today of all days.”

“I’m sorry.” And, I meant it. Ten minutes equaled days to her. She headed over to Officer Dan to hug him and offering thanks. I savored one last look at the open road, wondering if I’d ever be able to follow it out of this tiny town. I headed inside with my mother at my heels.

I curled up on a bar stool while she attended a pot of pasta that began to boil over. A blast of steam clouded her face as she lifted the lid.

“I know I should have called, but my phone died,” I said.

Through the dwindling steam, my mother shot me a disapproving glare. “You also shouldn’t have lied to your coach and given her a fake sick note to get out of cross country practice today. She seemed surprised when I called her up to ask if she kept you late.”

Rather than think too hard on my growing guilt, I swiveled my bar stool back and forth, hoping that my guilt would evaporate like the steam.

“Mom, I’m going to college in a year. I be won’t checking-in every day. I’ll be on my own.” I did lie, I was late. Yet, I yearned for a longer leash, some sense of freedom without the daily check-ins. This was the first time I ever came home late in three years. As much as I blamed my father, I couldn’t help blaming her too. Most people moved on, recovered. Instead, Mom lived every day like we’d never come back. “Why can’t I stay out now?”

“You know why,” she whispered before testing a noodle.

“I’m not Dad. It’s not like one day I’m just going to magically disappear from this world without a word. You’re stuck with me; I’m your daughter. But, I’ll have to leave eventually…”

The sentence hung in the air as she stirred in the pasta sauce. “Set the table. We need to talk about your punishment.”

Post by anorthup on Feb 2, 2017 20:17:11 GMT -5

CHAPTER ONE:On the third anniversary of my father’s disappearance, I hid in my car a block from my house, imagining what it would be like to vanish. To leave everything behind: clothes, money, pictures, friends, and family. To start over without the weight of my identity and my past dragging behind me. All I had to do was turn the key and drive. Then, I could be free from it all. But three years ago I promised I’d never make my family relive that night when I was fourteen. This confused me initially because I thought it was something she'd done when she was fourteen - like running away. It took me until the last sentence to realize it was dad's disappearance that you were talking about. The ice cold mashed potatoes, the melted candle wax dripping onto the ivory tablecloth, Amber picking at the loose strand of her favorite blue dress—the same dress she’d torch later that week in the backyard. With one choice, my father unraveled himself from the fabric of our family without a goodbye, and we weren’t able to stitch ourselves back together. The car hummed as it idled underneath me, urging me back home. Only two minutes down the road, yet I could have been an hour away, the facts remained the same—I was late. I get what you mean here, but the wording is a little off. Without knowing how important it is that she not be late, and hour / two minutes seem so different, so it throws me a little. Maybe a clearer connection would help? From the driver’s seat, I had a side view of my living room window. I thought she was a block away. Did she pull up beside her house? Every few minutes, the curtain pulled back, and I’d catch a quick glimpse of my mother’s arm. Without even seeing her, I knew my mother had a phone clutched to her shoulder, waging an internal debate on whether or not to call the police. Our county department’s number memorized after months of calls. I cast a glance to my own phone, dead and useless on the passenger’s seat.In just one year, I’d be graduated from high school. When all of my friends moved away, I’d still be here, at home, fulfilling a promise that shackled me down. For the first time in three years, I didn’t check in. And it felt good. Without a second thought, I turned the key further in the ignition, and shifted into drive. Pressing down on the gas pedal, I sped past my house. I had no destination, only away. The more distance I put between me and home, the lighter I felt. I rolled down the window, letting the cool September breeze blow through my hair, sending dirty blonde strands over my face. My laughter filled the car, and I stuck a hand out the open window as everything seemed suddenly in my reach. An eagerness pooled in my chest, and an internal pull tugged outwards, driving me toward something—something different, something farther. I reached toward it. And then the world went black. I couldn’t feel my body, couldn’t open my eyes, and couldn’t hear a single sound. I felt paralyzed, my limbs frozen in the darkness only filled with my terror and the cloying powdery smell of lilac. Had I crashed? Was I dead? I panicked, jerking away from the thoughts and trying to regain control over my body, my senses. It worked.

The world returned as my car drove headfirst over the curb. I slammed on the brakes, my body no longer paralyzed, and turned the wheel so the car fell back on the road. I shook as the car came to a stop. My breath came in shallow gulps. The smell of lilacs still clung to my throat as if I swallowed it with each inhale. The lilacs and fear choked me. Only the cool air provided any comfort. For a moment, it had been as if I were stuck in a moment of sleep paralysis I’d been experiencing over the last four months. A moment of dark, paralyzed panic. I thought sleep paralysis wasn't blackness, just being paralyzed but fully conscious. I could be wrong, though. Only I was awake. The lilac smell lessened as the autumn smell of old leaves and the burnt rubber of my tires drifted back until the lilacs disappeared entirely. I sat in my car for fifteen minutes, counting the numbers of leaves on the street and running my hands over my arms to dispel the feeling of paralysis as I had done every morning. I experienced the same dream, over and over. Every night. Remembering the dream sometimes felt like sifting through a fog with no start, no end, just infinite haze. I laid paralyzed moments after waking, trying to convince myself that no one was after me. Who would be after her? Does she see something to think that? Is it just a feeling?

That I was safe. Sitting in my car, I reached eighty-seven leaves when the row I had been counting blew away, clearing an open circle in the middle of the street. The breeze that once whipped my hair disappeared though. No other leaves rustled along the ground, no tree branches swayed against the wind. Only the perfect circle in front of me showed any sign of disturbance. The leaves rattled again. This time, a gray mist swirled in the open circle, twisting and turning, taking shape. The fog gray deepened into shadow black. My heart pounded, watching the smoky mist grow tall like a person with two silver orbs for eyes. “Ellie?”I jumped, nearly screaming. Officer Dan’s head peeked in the open car window. Glancing back toward the shadow, it had vanished. No signs that it ever existed remained. The leaves once again covered every inch of the ground. Is he just standing on the street? Did he drive here? Is this like a downtown area where he could reach her on foot?“Ellie,” Officer Dan continued. “Is everything all right? Your mom called. She was worried when you didn’t come home.”I nodded absently, still staring at the empty street. “I’m okay. Everything’s fine.”

CHAPTER TWO:

As I parked in the driveway, Mom darted out from the open doorway, her phone clutched in her hand. She sighed with relief and hugged me to her chest with a surprising strength for someone so slender. Her hands shook on my back even with me tucked safely in her arms. For a few more seconds, she stroked my hair and took deep breaths.

Then she pulled away, and my stern mother returned. “Eleanor, I’m beginning to wonder if this is becoming a household trait. Honestly, we’ve put up with this for years with your sister. But, you I expected more from.” She paused. “Ellie, you know how important it is to call if you’re going to be late, especially today...” Mom’s voice shook. “Today of all days.”

“I’m sorry.” And, I meant it. Ten minutes equaled days to her. She headed over to Officer Dan to hug him and offering thanks. I savored one last look at the open road, wondering if I’d ever be able to follow it out of this tiny town. I headed inside with my mother at my heels.

I curled up on a bar stool while she attended a pot of pasta that began to boil over. A blast of steam clouded her face as she lifted the lid.

“I know I should have called, but my phone died,” I said.

Through the dwindling steam, my mother shot me a disapproving glare. “You also shouldn’t have lied to your coach and given her a fake sick note to get out of cross country practice today. She seemed surprised when I called her up to ask if she kept you late.”

Rather than think too hard on my growing guilt, I swiveled my bar stool back and forth, hoping that my guilt would evaporate like the steam.

“Mom, I’m going to college in a year. I be won’t checking-in every day. I’ll be on my own.” I did lie, I was late. Yet, I yearned for a longer leash, some sense of freedom without the daily check-ins. This was the first time I ever came home late in three years. As much as I blamed my father, I couldn’t help blaming her too. Most people moved on, recovered. Instead, Mom lived every day like we’d never come back. “Why can’t I stay out now?”

“You know why,” she whispered before testing a noodle.

“I’m not Dad. It’s not like one day I’m just going to magically disappear from this world without a word. You’re stuck with me; I’m your daughter. But, I’ll have to leave eventually…” But I thought she made a promise to stay? She said she isn't leaving while her friends will leave before.

The sentence hung in the air as she stirred in the pasta sauce. “Set the table. We need to talk about your punishment.”

I like this a lot! You set up the suffocation the main character is feeling very well and I'd love to see where everything goes with her black outs/missing dad.